


we go together like peanut butter and jelly

by interstellarbeams



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Humor, BAMF Michelle Jones, F/M, High School, boyfriend/girlfriend - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 05:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18423708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Peter loves Michelle, he really does, but she should really stick to her paints and stay away from the peanut butter and jelly.





	we go together like peanut butter and jelly

**Author's Note:**

> For my bestie Denise who has been waiting way too long for me to write another Spideychelle fic. :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated! <3

“You said to be honest! Stop hitting _me_!” Peter couldn’t help but laugh, awkwardly, when Michelle rolled her eyes after one last slap to his arm and turned her back on him.

The roar of the teenagers filling the cafeteria didn’t dim but Peter felt a definite chill rolling off his girlfriend, where she sat next to him on the bench. 

She huffed again, her attempt at reminding him that she was upset. Not that Peter needed a reminder. Her immediate, violent response was enough of a clue but MJ wasn’t one to hold back especially when she was angry.

Peter rubbed a hand along the back of his neck as he stared down at the mush that was the “pb&j” that she had fixed him. Normally peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were his favorite, he had one almost every day at lunch, but Michelle being Michelle, this one was a strange mix of whole grain bread, sun nut butter and homemade grape jelly. 

He had to give her credit for trying but was it really his fault that his taste buds had sent an immediate “yuck” message to his brain. She had asked what he thought and he struggled to chew and swallow it before answering, _honestly_ , that it wasn’t his favorite. And now she was _mad_.

Peter knew that being honest was usually the “best policy” but not when you’re asked by your girlfriend if she looks fat in her favorite dress and definitely not when she asks you to be honest about her cooking/sandwich-making skills.

Honesty is the best policy only when it won’t hurt someone’s (especially a woman’s) feelings, more like. _Why hadn’t Peter learned that yet?_ He lived with his Aunt May for goodness sake, he should have a handle on this. 

_Crap, how am I going to make it up to her?_ He thought, as he let his eyes trace the stubbornly straight line of her back. She must have really taken it to heart. Usually she would turn around within a few minutes, call him a sucker and flash a rare but obnoxiously bright smile at him. She wasn’t one to mope or to pull her punches so, her silence was definitely a warning sign.

Peter sighed, fingering the edge of his science notebook, and wishing the bright Star Wars stickers plastered on the cover could brighten his mood as much as they usually did. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, she was the one who had made him say.

The bread hadn’t been horrible and the sun nut butter was weird but not a bad flavor, the jelly though… the jelly had crystallized, probably overbooked on the stove when it was made and the grit of it between his teeth had turned his stomach pretty quick.

“Come on, Michelle. I didn’t mean it!” Peter tried to apologize but she didn’t even move. He would be surprised if she had even batted an eyelash, she was that good at holding a grudge. 

“You have to admit, It was partly your fault,” he added as he turned toward her, setting his feet down on the floor on either side of the bench, “You’re the one who made me answer.”

When that also didn’t work, he pushed his curls back from his forehead with one hand, and frustrated, yelled, “It’s just a stupid sandwich!” 

_That_ got her attention but not in the way he intended, because the next thing he knew chocolate milk was being dumped on his head and the sticky, cold liquid dripped off of the ends of his hair and down the back of his sweater, and he was left sputtering as she stomped off, her black messenger bag, slung over her shoulder, his last sight of her as she exited the cafeteria. 

“Ooh,” Flash sucked his teeth as he walked by, _of course_ , as a witness to Peter’s humiliation, “tough luck, Parker. Maybe she’s lactose intolerant.” 

“ _Haha_ ,” Peter rolled his eyes snatching up his backpack, notebook and the lunch bag, tossing it in the trash as he made his way to the cafeteria doors and down the hall.

———————

 

Peter spluttered, the cold water of the tap in the boy’s bathroom causing him to shiver as he rinsed his hair as quickly as he could in the sink. He wrung it out as best as he could, and used his vintage Mothman t-shirt as a towel. Thankfully, he hadn’t had gym class yet today so his change out shirt would have to do for the rest of the school period. 

Peter couldn’t be mad at Michelle, after all, he had hurt her feelings but she had humiliated him in lunch period instead of letting him apologize. 

He smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt with both hands, ineffectual, but he shrugged his shoulders. At least he could show up to Mr. Lawson’s class with a shirt on, being shirtless in chem lab would definitely get him detention and he had enough of detention to last the rest of junior year and into senior year.

A knock sounded on the door, and Peter jerked his head up. _Who would knock on a public bathroom door? Unless…_ he decided to throw caution to the wind and hope it wasn’t Flash come to make his particular brand of “friends.”

“Come in,” he called, slinging his backpack strap over his arm and threading his arm through the other strap.

The door creaked as it opened and Peter caught a flash of dark, curly hair in the mirror. He caught her eyes in the mirror’s reflection and she smiled, lifting one hand shyly. Peter wanted to ignore her the way she had ignored him, but he just didn’t have the energy or the heart. 

He turned around slowly, bracing his hands against the countertop, the slow drip of a faulty faucet the only sound in the empty bathroom. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally spoke into the silence that had gathered between them like storm clouds on a summer day. She threaded her fingers together in front of her, not quite as standoffish as crossed arms, but she wasn’t as open toward him as she had been that morning when they stood in the hall before home room and she had tucked her hands into the crook of his arm. 

Peter’s mouth crooked fondly at the sight of the paint splatters on her shredded black jeans, evidence that she hadn’t been sulking over their earlier disagreement but holed up in the art room with paints and her easel. 

“I’m sorry too. Thanks for the sandwich, just maybe, let me make my own sandwich next time and you can bring the drinks, but please… no milk this time.”

MJ moved closer, unlocking her fingers, and settling her warm palms on to the back of his hands where they rested on the countertop.

“Okay, but the cafeteria doesn’t have many choices, I’ll have to bring in some _contraband_.”

“You know I love it when you talk dirty.” Peter teased, his smile brightening infinitesimally at the sound of her happy laughter bouncing off of the tiled walls and concrete floor.


End file.
